


i’m doing it a different way

by wrennette



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Crechemaster!Qui-Gon, M/M, cameos by other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-27 23:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Qui-Gon chose the path of a crechemaster over that of a Knight, leading him to Obi-Wan all the same.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Constellations Reveal Themselves One Star at a Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536680) by [Meggory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meggory/pseuds/Meggory). 



> title ganked from "independent love song" by scarlet.
> 
> for @quiobiweek although i've chucked the prompts out the window. full story to post by weeks end.
> 
> this is totally the fault of @meggory84 who mentioned qui-gon wanting to be a crechemaster and then gave me permission to run away with the idea.
> 
> The canon I’m familiar with is screen canon, aka the movies and The Clone Wars show, with a heavy assist from wookieepedia because my memory sucks, and we’re throwing it all out anyway, so frankly, if you’re here for canon compliance, you’re in the wrong place. I like force-feeding the canon chocolate and telling it to get therapy and cheer the fuck up, so.
> 
> also if there are more stray typos than usual, i apologize, my computer is being a little bitch.

On his third solo mission out of the Temple as a new-made Knight, Qui-Gon Jinn curled behind a tree and cried. A few kilometers away, the village he had been sent to help lay in smouldering ruins, and it was not attachment - he did not know these people well enough for it to be attachment - but it was compassion. His master had warned him his soft heart would get him in trouble, had scolded him over and over for empathizing so quickly and wholly with the beings they were sent to assist. Perhaps, Qui-Gon thought sadly, he wasn’t meant to be a Jedi. But he was - he knew he was, that he was meant to be a Jedi and help people. But this - he wasn’t helping anyone. There wasn’t anyone left to help.

Weary and heart-sore, Qui-Gon found his way back to Coruscant. If anyone greeted him on his return, he would never remember how he replied. Distantly, he was sure he reported to the High Council as was standard and proper. But he didn’t really remember any of that. The first thing he truly remembered was Tahl overriding the locks on his door some days later, letting herself in, and bodily dragging him to the ‘fresher. 

She cursed him roundly, scrubbed him like a particularly flea-ridden tooka kit, and then deposited him on the sofa and handed him too-sweet tea until he finally drank. She sat at his side and babbled about her missions and coursework until he finally broke his silence. Qui-Gon tried to explain, but he couldn’t quite verbalize how utterly miserable he was, and settled for sobbing on Tahl’s shoulder while she awkwardly patted his head. It took another week for Qui-Gon to be able to talk about the mission without either dissociating himself from the situation or breaking down. 

Tahl, being the best friend Qui-Gon could have asked for, teased the tangled hints out of him, weaving them into something like the whole picture. She also knew him well enough to remember his long ago dreams of helping others, of protecting the smallest of their Order.

“You should ask off the active roster,” Tahl said decisively. Qui-Gon looked up in confusion, his rambling trailing off. “Look, the happiest I’ve seen you is when you’re on teaching or creche rotations. Dooku may have been your master, but he’s not anymore. Yes, you’re good at the diplomatic poodoo he specialized in, and an excellent duellist. But you’re not happy. What’s the point if you’re not happy?” 

Qui-Gon opened and closed his mouth a few times, realized he probably looked like a gooberfish, and closed it with a _hmmph_. Tahl grinned. 

“Take a couple classes in educational theory or what have you. If you don’t like it, fine, go back out into the galaxy as Dooku wanted. He’ll be very pleased to tell you how eminently right he was about everything. But you’ve been happily throwing nearly every other dictate he gave you out the window since before you were Knighted. Why are you holding fast to that bit of nonsense advice?”

Qui-Gon just _hmmph_ ’d at that, not even bothering to gape at her. Tahl beamed, as she always did when she was right. It was a distressingly familiar expression, Qui-Gon thought. He couldn’t resist her expectant look though, and so he nodded, and in the morning he requested his status be changed so he could remain in Temple for educational purposes. Unsurprisingly, a few days later, his master showed up while Qui-Gon was exercising with Tahl and Micah, both of whom were still Senior Padawans. 

“Qui-Gon,” Dooku said, and most would say his voice was perfectly even, but years of experience let Qui-Gon hear the full measure of disappointment in his master’s deep tones. 

“Master Dooku,” Qui-Gon returned, disengaging from their exercises and turning to bow respectfully. 

“Walk with me,” Dooku commanded, and Qui-Gon just barely managed not to sigh, girding himself for what he was certain would be a long and tedious lecture disguised as a conversation. 

“Master,” Qui-Gon said, and fussed his tunics into place, not wanting a second lecture on the state of his dress. They exited the gymnasium, and it was three very long corridors before Dooku next spoke. Qui-Gon was familiar with this tactic though; his Master had explained when Qui-Gon was many years younger and almost a meter shorter that silence often prompted confessions, unscripted avowals that proved useful. Eventually, Dooku let out a soft sound of something like amusement. 

“Very well then,” Dooku said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “What’s this I hear that you’ve taken yourself off the mission roster and enrolled in classes. In _EduCorps_ ,” he demanded, the disdain on the Educational Corps’ shortened name all but dripping from his voice. Qui-Gon, who had been preparing for this confrontation for days now, took a deep breath, not quite as steady as he would have liked. 

“What was your purpose in training me Master Dooku?” Qui-Gon asked, instead of complying with his master’s demand for information. “What did you see in me, that drew you to offer to raise me to Knighthood?”

“I knew you would be a Jedi of great import, with your strong, though somewhat inexplicable connection to the Living Force,” Dooku said after a moment of consideration. 

“I don’t much care for my import,” Qui-Gon said, trying - and failing - to disguise the thread of hurt in his voice. “I would rather be a good Jedi than an important one. And the missions I have been given - they are perhaps well within the skills you have given me. But I cannot put my heart into them. Not without having my heart broken,” Qui-Gon said, then raised his hand to stave off the scold he knew was coming. “I know you think compassion will be my downfall, that empathy will only hurt me. And you’re right, it already has. But I cannot simply turn those emotions off Master. I cannot make myself not care. I care. I care very much. And I would rather use that empathy for good than ignore it as if it were something worthy of contempt, or shunt it into the Force as if it were a detriment like anger or hatred. I am going to take EduCorps classes. If I like them, I will ask for a transfer, and become a crechemaster.” Dooku scoffed, and turned away, stalking off. He turned a few meters away, looking back at Qui-Gon. 

“This is not what I trained you for,” Dooku said simply, the full weight of his disappointment evident. Qui-Gon smiled, small and sad. 

“I know,” Qui-Gon agreed, and then turned and walked away. That night, it was Micah that brought Qui-Gon tea, and patted his shoulder as he cried. The relationship between Qui-Gon and Dooku had long been strained but he had hoped - a small, quiet part of him - had hoped that he might still make his master proud. Micah didn’t say much - he hadn’t anything helpful to say really, that he hadn’t said before, and was fairly certain that Qui-Gon didn’t want to hear his practiced screed on what an utter asshole Master Dooku was. 

Qui-Gon did his best to ensure his path and Master Dooku’s didn’t cross after that, although in truth it didn’t take much effort. He knew that the early years of Knighthood were supposed to be a bit lonely, to allow the new-made Knight to grow into themself, figure things out and learn experientially. Qui-Gon had spent a few miserable months doing that already, and was quite happy to be back in the Temple, attending classes. 

He had a feeling Dooku would say that perhaps this was evidence he hadn’t been ready to be knighted after all. Qui-Gon wasn’t sure what his response to such an accusation would be if it were levelled; he _hadn’t_ felt ready to be a Knight, but then, no new-made Knight he’d ever spoken with had been. They had all passed their Trials regardless though, so that didn’t seem a very good measure. 

The first class Qui-Gon took was an introduction to pedagogy, basics. Most of the other students were of early Padawan age, but dressed in the pale blue tunics of EduCorps Initiates. There were a few others in standard Jedi tunics, but Qui-Gon was the oldest being in the room, including the instructor. Qui-Gon thought he did well though, even if he struggled a bit being so inactive at first. That was soon remedied by placing himself on volunteer rotations in the creche, assisting the crechemasters when he wasn’t in class or doing coursework. He also made himself available in the gymnasium to spar, or even to help the Battlemaster with training.

It was in the third month of this, as Qui-Gon was beginning to get comfortable and find his feet, that a new volunteer began in the creche. Feemor was a few years Qui-Gon’s junior, but Qui-Gon knew him from classes and training. It took Qui-Gon a couple days to really notice him in the creche though, as the adolescent just hunched at the edges of the room, emanating his wishes to just be left alone. By the time Qui-Gon noted him, he had heard the rumours already - Feemor’s master had died, leaving him orphaned and his path to Knighthood uncertain. 

Qui-Gon waffled over what to do for a few days. Eventually, he just plopped himself down beside Feemor in the refectory during mid-meal. Feemor looked up, almost flinching back from Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon didn’t say anything, just gave a thin smile and set about inhaling his noodles. Feemor relaxed slightly, and after that, every time Qui-Gon saw Feemor in the refectory, he just sat beside him, giving him a bit of silent support. After a week or so, Feemor began appearing in the gymnasium when Qui-Gon and his friends were exercising, and Qui-Gon invited him to join them. 

“What’re you up to?” Tahl all but demanded one evening as she lazed across Qui-Gon’s bed, looking at him upside down from where her head hung off the edge of the mattress. 

“Honestly? Not a clue,” Qui-Gon admitted. “But he looked so miserable sitting by himself everyday. I don’t think any of his other friends are in Temple, and he needed someone to offer him a compassionate hand.” 

“You and your big heart,” Tahl said fondly, and Qui-Gon blushed. Two weeks later, he offered to finish Feemor’s training, although it would delay his own plans to become a creche attendant and later crechemaster. Feemor blinked uncertainly, but nodded, and Qui-Gon petitioned the High Council later that same day. 

Because of his current training rotation, Qui-Gon and Feemor had a few months to figure a working relationship out in Temple before they got tossed into the thick of things. For the most part, Qui-Gon decided to treat Feemor like a mission partner. His Padawan was already mostly trained, after all. When Qui-Gon finished his introductory EduCorps courses though, he put them back on the mission roster - while his intentions had never been more clear, he also refused to hold Feemor back by keeping them to the Temple. He requested that their missions be based on Feemor’s training rather than his own, knowing that Master Dooku had been something of a diplomacy specialist. 

The majority of Dooku’s missions - and therefore Qui-Gon’s - had been to mediate treaties of various sorts, or for ceremonial rites like coronations or state funerals. Feemor’s previous master had been more of a disaster remediation specialist, helping devastated populations get back on their feet after hurricanes, floods, tornadoes, fires, and other difficult and unpredictable disasters. Despite that such occurrences were lethal on a massive scale, Qui-Gon somehow knew they’d be emotionally draining in ways that were utterly new to him. He couldn’t say he particularly looked forward to that, but at least - hopefully - most of the damage would not be inflicted by other sentients. 

After a month’s mission in the wake of fire season on Aduba, where the Agricultural Corps had an outpost, Qui-Gon mentally recalculated. Even in the wake of disaster, it seemed, the best of beings wasn’t always what came out. The members of the AgriCorps had nearly been driven off world when they tried to prevent the down and out spacers who made up the majority of the population from looting their greenhouses. They’d dispensed food aid from the greenhouses as fast as the AgriCorps could grow their crops, but that hadn’t been fast enough for some, and more than one greenhouse had been a total loss, and with the buildings, all the valuable food and medicinal plants inside. The looters had eaten well on the night of their break in, and cut the available rations by a significant percentage in the long term. 

The mission, although disheartening, hadn’t been without it’s good points. Qui-Gon had learned - or more accurately been reminded - how to use the Force to help seeds germinate and seedlings grow strong and fast. Feemor, who had already been practiced at such techniques, had delighted in lording his ability over Qui-Gon, just a little bit. It was a peculiar skill, not oft needed by most Knights, but Qui-Gon had been more than pleased to learn and then train the ability. His affinity with the Living Force might be rare, but he could easily see how such an ability might be used to help younglings reach for the Living Force.

After a week of downtime, Qui-Gon and Feemor were sent out again. And again. And again. Qui-Gon enjoyed teaching Feemor - and learning a new set of skills himself. And many times, beings they came to assist showed them the very best aspects of themselves, banding together against all but impossible odds. They helped rebuild communities where they could, and relocated those who were too devastated to rebuild in the same place. Qui-Gon learned, and he taught, and after about three years of alternating a few months of missions with a few months in Temple to see to coursework for both himself and Feemor, he was ready to leave the field, and raise Feemor a Knight.

“I think I want to go into environmental remediation more,” Feemor said thoughtfully one evening over late-meal as they talked about Qui-Gon’s intention to move into the creche after Feemor’s knighting.

“Oh?” Qui-Gon nodded, thinking that sounded like rather more fun than chasing after disasters. Feemor nodded. 

“I like the growing things aspect of my training best,” Feemor said consideringly. “I may not be as strong in the Living Force as you, but I like the idea of being surrounded by green and growing things.”

“Then that’s what you should do,” Qui-Gon said simply, and Feemor grinned. A few months later, he was Knighted and transferred to the Bandomeer AgriCorps outpost, and Qui-Gon was transferred to the creche just in time to watch his former Master claim Xanatos DuCrion as Padawan, Qui-Gon having brought the Telosian boy to the Temple some years before at the beginning of his time as a Jedi Knight. From what the other Jedi minding the Initiates said, it would be a good match.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this takes liberties with the timeline, mostly because i couldn't be assed to do math properly and everyone's ages are wonky even in canon. so. also, evidently my mention of xanatos and dooku was enough of a red herring to make y'all take notice, so they're addressed a little here and i may mention them again later but know they aren't really important to the story.

Some of Obi-Wan’s earliest memories were of warmth - large strong hands cradling him securely to a broad chest, a deep voice rumbling out stories. He learned from that big, soft voice how to touch the Force, how to make slumbering seeds sprout and grow, their roots digging deep, their leaves reaching up. He learned from those gentle hands how to cradle a skittish tooka kitten and stroke its soft fur, how to hold it safe and nurse it from a bottle. At five though, Obi-Wan graduated out of the creche into the Initiates dorm, where things were harder and colder, and there was no Master Qui to rest a massive hand encouragingly on his shoulder when he stumbled over his words in his excitement. 

Despite that he was an Initiate, Obi-Wan would go back sometimes, sneak into the creche and find Master Qui, curl silently against his side if Master Qui was still, or trail after him, one small fist caught tight in the Master’s soft tunics. Master Qui would ruffle Obi-Wan’s hair, and ask him about his classes, and Obi-Wan would tell him about the interesting things, and tried very hard to be a big boy and not complain about Bruck Chun, who had decided to pick on Obi-Wan and his friends, and said Obi-Wan was too stupid and clumsy to ever be a real Jedi. 

Qui-Gon wasn’t as unaware as Obi-Wan might have liked. Although Bruck had been under the jurisdiction of a different crechemaster when he and Obi-Wan were younglings, it wasn’t as though the Jedi responsible for the younglings and Initiates never spoke to one another. Gossip passed quickly through the residential wings, especially when that gossip had to do with a sweet if somewhat tempestuous child like Obi-Wan being picked on by a larger and stronger Initiate. 

So Qui-Gon did what he could, ensuring that Obi-Wan had a safe refuge with him. Unfortunately, unless he saw Bruck’s actions in person, or Obi-Wan confided in him, there wasn’t much Qui-Gon could officially do, save bitch at his friends - which ended up being surprisingly useful when Mace Windu, a young Knight who had become one of Qui-Gon’s favorite sparring partners - was named to the High Council despite only having been Knighted a few years before. Mace couldn’t do much either, although he certainly made a name for himself arguing with the rest of the High Council about how younglings and Initiates were disciplined. 

Time passed in fits and starts. Bruck would ease off Obi-Wan for a while, then intensify his bullying again just when Obi-Wan had started to let down his guard. As Obi-Wan approached his thirteenth birthday, his own insecurities made Bruck’s words sound more and more reasonable. A Jedi, after all, wasn’t supposed to be angry or afraid, and Obi-Wan - Obi-Wan frequently felt both emotions. He retreated to Master Qui’s creche when he could, enjoying the simple pleasures of cuddling and playing with the toddlers, although often that only earned him further taunting from Bruck when he returned to the Initiates’ dorms, as Bruck didn’t dare go after Obi-Wan in Master Qui’s domain.

“Obi-Wan?” Master Qui said gently one day, large hand ruffling through soft ginger hair. Obi-Wan looked up from where he’d been playing with one of the younglings, zooming model spaceships over their head. Master Qui towered over him, smiling gently. “There’s someone here to see you.” Obi-Wan’s stomach lurched, wondering what Bruck was blaming on him now, but when he looked over he saw not the irritated dormitory attendant he had anticipated, but Padawan - no, Knight now by the missing length of hair - Knight Billaba. Obi-Wan nodded, and gently excused himself from the Cathar youngling he’d been playing with, then went to meet Knight Billaba. 

“Hello Obi-Wan,” Depa said, smiling slightly too wide. “I know I don’t have any accomplishments to my name yet, I’ve only just been Knighted,” she continued almost nervously. But the Force - it was practically screaming that this boy was meant to be a Knight as well, and it would dishonour the teachings of her Master, of her people, of the Force itself for this boy to be sent away to serve in the Corps rather than rise a Knight. “But if nothing else, I have confidence in my training by Master Mace. I am Depa Billaba, and it would be my honour, Obi-Wan Kenobi, if you would accept my guidance on your path to becoming a Jedi Knight.”

Obi-Wan gaped at her like a rather stunned bantha. Maybe she had no accomplishments yet to her name as a Knight. But the whole Temple knew of Master Windu’s intelligent and pious Padawan, who had achieved Knighthood in near-record time. It was unusual for a Knight to take a Padawan within the first five years of their Knighting. It was unheard of for one to come directly to the Initiate dorms - or younglings’ creche in this case - after their Knighting ceremony, the hair behind their ear still singed where their learners braid had been severed. 

“The honour would be mine,” Obi-Wan stammered out, and then her arms were warm around him, wrapping him in her strength and the soft sandalwood and jasmine perfume that clung to her glossy dark hair. Obi-Wan fisted his hands in the folds of her linen robes, specially hand-embroidered for her Knighthood ceremony in the Chalactan style. A Master. He had a Master. Despite his best intentions, Obi-Wan’s narrow shoulders shuddered, and he sobbed in pure, unrelenting relief. He wouldn’t be sent away from home.

“Depa?” A deep voice asked after a time, and Depa looked up with a radiant smile at her now former Master. Many found Mace Windu stern and dogmatic, but after being at the man’s elbow for less than a year, Depa had become aware that much of Mace’s reputation was based on a fairly thin facade. Mace loved the Jedi deeply and without reservation, embraced them one and all as his family and people. There was hardly a waking moment, Depa knew, when Mace was not trying to better the Jedi. Being named to the Council so young had placed certain expectations on Mace though, and he had always done his best to rise to the occasion. In claiming Obi-Wan, Depa was certain she would be following in his footsteps. 

“Master, this is my new Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Depa said guilelessly, as if she hadn’t for the past two years been hearing Mace bemoan the utter unfairness of Yoda forbidding the boy to be bonded by any Master but Yan Dooku, who had Knighted his last Padawan a few years previous. But then, Depa was no Master. She was less than an hour a Knight. A splitting of hairs perhaps, but no one more than a Jedi knew the importance of semantics and negotiating strict terms on an agreement. Mace’s eyes widened, and a slow grin curled up his mouth until he was incandescent with silent joy.

“My congratulations Knight Billaba,” Mace said, and knelt, reaching out to gently rub Obi-Wan’s trembling back. “He will be a proud addition to our lineage.” Depa grinned in return then, then ducked her head to speak quietly into Obi-Wan’s flushed ear. Slowly he turned, scrubbing at his splotchy face and flushing brilliantly as he looked up at the Counselor. Mace was fairly certain he’d seen nothing so adorable in days. “Hello Padawan,” Mace greeted gently, not bothering with the stern mask he used for others. 

“H’llo Master Windu,” Obi-Wan mumbled shyly. Mace glanced over his head to meet Depa’s eyes, and though she was grinning, her eyes were sad. Mace nodded in understanding. Yoda’s meddling, his insistence that this boy was meant for Yan, had clearly almost broken a beautiful young soul. Tentative, giving the boy plenty of time to pull away if he wished, Mace reached out and cupped Obi-Wan’s cheek, still rounded with boyhood.

“Master Mace, just as your Master once called me,” Mace corrected gently, rubbing his thumb against Obi-Wan’s cheek to try and dispel some of his tears. “Why don’t you two gather Obi-Wan’s things, and I will go speak to the Quartermaster?” Both Depa and Obi-Wan nodded, and Depa rose carefully, helping Obi-Wan to his feet and then guiding him back towards the Initiates dorms. Mace proudly watched after them. A soft clearing of the throat, and he turned, grinning at Qui-Gon. 

“What was that about?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“You hadn’t heard?” Mace returned in surprise, and Qui-Gon shook his head. “Master Dooku’s been without a Padawan since Knight DuCrion completed his training,” Mace explained. Qui-Gon blinked. As a teenager, Xanatos had routinely ‘run into’ Qui-Gon in the training halls and refectory, and boasted of Master Dooku’s pride in his accomplishments. Qui-Gon had surmised that his own name was being used as a comparison in the boy’s training, or perhaps as a cautionary tale. 

Counter to Xanatos’ intent, Qui-Gon had felt not insignificant smugness at that. Being a Jedi that Dooku was proud of had ceased to be Qui-Gon’s driving motive years before, and he was a bit amused - and a bit more concerned - at Xanatos’ need to boast and build himself up. It had been years though, since Xanatos had sought Qui-Gon out. Qui-Gon had assumed the boy had matured beyond such displays, and it seemed he was right, from a certain perspective.

“Dooku didn’t want another Padawan just yet, but Yoda thought he and Obi-Wan would make a good match - to the extent he forbid other Masters from claiming the boy,” Mace continued. He smiled proudly, rather smug at Depa’s work around. Mace may have promised he wouldn’t interfere with Yoda’s plans for the boy, but his brave Knight had made no such vows. While Depa was always a source of pride, and especially so today, the day of her Knighting, he couldn’t help but be even prouder at her decisive action to protect Initiate Kenobi. The boy deserved the chance to become a Knight, and to do so without the political maneuvering that Yoda was undertaking.

“Depa will be good for him,” Qui-Gon said firmly. Mace waited a moment to see if his friend would say anything else, but Qui-Gon remained closed mouthed. While Mace knew that relations between Qui-Gon and his former Master were strained at best, he’d never had the whole story from Qui-Gon himself. He couldn’t quite imagine the two of them working together though, their personalities were so different. 

“You should come to late meal with us tonight,” Mace offered. “It’s clear the boy likes and trusts you.” Qui-Gon nodded after a moment, and was shortly pulled away by one of his young charges. Mace watched them a little longer, almost wishing he’d still been young enough to be in Qui-Gon’s creche as a youngling. It was clear his friend adored all his charges, and did his best to start them out well on their paths to becoming Jedi.

Turning on his heel, Mace pulled out his datapad and began typing up the formal announcement of Depa’s Knighting as he strode back up through the Temple. As promised, he checked in with the Quartermaster, who promised to assign the appropriate quarters for Depa and her new Padawan, and send a housekeeping droid for Depa’s belongings. Mace also requisitioned the makings of a small feast for that evening, and by the time he actually arrived at the quarters he would no longer share with Depa, he had sent the official acknowledgement and begun typing an invitation for a small celebratory dinner in their quarters. 

Depa arrived before the droids did, practically bouncing in her understated way, glowing with joy. She had been a pleasure to teach, and Mace could already see the gratification she would gain in passing on her knowledge to Obi-Wan. The boy was shy, but there was a quiet drive in him too. Mace had noticed him over the years, watching him do all he could to make himself into the model potential Padawan. He knew some of those attempts had likely backfired, and others outright failed, but he also thought that Kenobi’s aspiration and drive was indicative of the boy’s solid determination. There were far worse traits to cultivate in a Jedi than persistence.

Obi-Wan helped Depa sort through her things before the housekeeping droids came; the uniforms she would keep, those that were too shabby to wear anymore but she hadn’t gotten around to tossing yet, her few keepsakes and so forth. With the keepsakes, Depa told stories; most were from missions they had taken, often ceremonial due to Mace’s busy schedule keeping him on Coruscant most of the time. Others were things she had been given on Chalacta, at the Temple of Illumination during her studies there.

It had truly taken a community to raise Depa to Knighthood, although Mace thought she had benefited from the experience. Depa’s sister Sar was also a Jedi, a few years younger than Depa and a Padawan yet. But Sar’s Master, Kion Tel’ra had always been happy to take Depa along on their missions off Coruscant when Mace was trapped by Council business, and Mace had ensured that even if it wasn’t with him, Depa had gotten all the training she wanted or needed. It was they, and some of Depa’s age-mates and their Masters, who would make up the party for her Knighting celebration.

Depa was forbidden by Mace from helping prepare the food for the celebratory dinner, a mix of dishes from Chalacta, Harun Kal and places they had visited. Obi-Wan happily assisted though, stealing slightly awestruck glances up at Mace as he did so. Mace kept his Force presence calm and warm and welcoming even as he stewed impotently with the unfairness of the boy’s previous situation. While he was more than pleased by Depa’s actions, the boy’s future shouldn’t have depended on a defiant new-made Knight.

As the evening lengthened, Depa invited them all to eat the following night at her new quarters - once she found out where they were - in honour of her taking a Padawan learner. Obi-Wan blushed furiously, and was subjected to much cheek pinching as a result. The two of them left before too late, to help Obi-Wan settle into his new schedule. 

Despite being based out of Coruscant, or perhaps as a result, Obi-Wan and his Master were rarely in Temple after Obi-Wan turned thirteen and was cleared for off world missions. Depa was a skilled diplomat, and she was sent throughout the Republic to mediate disputes of every variety with her Padawan at her side. Obi-Wan gained experience rapidly, although sometimes at the expense of his pride or to detriment of his still soft heart. He also learned though how to keep his heart open, to keep himself receptive to the whims of the universe. 

Master Depa, he knew, had faced great trials, and come through them admirably without becoming jaded or cynical. She had a Jedi’s hard-won pragmatism, but she was still unfailingly compassionate. For all his occasional teenaged selfishness, Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine a better person to model himself after than Master Depa. If that meant learning how to stay warm and soft even when his heart was breaking, so be it.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hello Master Qui-Gon,” Qui-Gon heard in a soft, familiar voice. He turned, already smiling, and had to raise his eyes because Obi-Wan had been quite a bit shorter the last time he’d come to visit the creche. His hair had been shorter too, shaggy save his Padawan braid. Now it was long enough to wear in looped Chalactan style braids, clearly influenced by his Master.

“Hello Padawan Kenobi,” Qui-Gon said fondly. “And who is this?” he asked, reaching out for the toddler in Obi-Wan’s arms. Obi-Wan’s face crumpled with distress, and so Qui-Gon wrapped both boys up in a gentle hug. 

“This is Anakin Skywalker. Master Billaba and I were sent to negotiate the turnover of Tatooine from Gardulla the Hutt to Jabba the Hutt, and ensure Jabba doesn’t intend to expand his territory into Republic space,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Anakin and his mother were - were enslaved to Gardulla.”

“And the mother?” Qui-Gon asked gently.

“Still enslaved, to a Toydarian called Watto in Mos Espa now. But technically Anakin wasn’t spoken for, so when we verified he was strong in the Force-” Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon sighed. Of course. It wasn’t exactly standard practice, but Depa, like no few members of the Order, had been enslaved, and was always happy to help another on their way to freedom. 

“She gave her permission though?” Qui-Gon asked to be sure. Although he’d never known Depa to be guilty of it, some Jedi did get a bit overzealous in their ‘recruitment’ of younglings.

“Yes, Miss Skywalker filled in all the forms with our help, she was quite pleased to know Anakin would be raised here, rather than enslaved alongside her, although she was of course sad to see him go,” Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon nodded, then stepped back slightly, smiling at his former charge. 

“Thank you for bringing him down,” Qui-Gon said. 

“I’m happy to,” Obi-Wan said with a slight flush. “I know you’ll take care of him, make sure he grows up safe and happy.” Qui-Gon couldn’t help a smile at that, touched to be remembered so fondly by one who’d been out of his care for so many years. They spoke a little longer, before Obi-Wan gently transferred young Anakin into Qui-Gon’s arms and took his leave. 

Troubled and at loose ends, Obi-Wan headed off to find the salles. The Coruscant Temple was the home of his childhood, but it was an expansive edifice, and even Masters used maps to navigate the labyrinthine halls. It took a little poking about in oft forgotten corners, but Obi-Wan soon found a small gymnasium where he could exercise without being in the way of a class. Light streamed warm and golden from the lamps above as Obi-Wan settled, and he knelt to meditate briefly, feeling for the rhythms of the Temple before rising and slowly beginning one of the most basic but beloved open hand routines, Starbird Waking.

Flowing through Starbird Waking, Obi-Wan held the closing pose for a few beats, breathing deeply, then moved into one of his favorites, Low Wind Rising. It was an upper level ‘saber drill, although it could be done open handed, and consisted of long held poses that trained balance and centeredness. By the time Obi-Wan finished, he was breathing a bit harder, and sweat had begun to bead on his brow. 

_Patience_ Obi-Wan reminded himself, memory echoing with Master Depa’s voice. She was a practitioner of the Soresu style, which depended on patience and stamina. She had begun building in him the skills Obi-Wan would need to master that same style. Maintaining his slow pace, Obi-Wan began the motions of Ribbon in the Air, a new form that Master Depa was teaching him. He felt fairly confident running it at half speed, and so he did that first, then returned to the beginning and slowly began to speed his movements. 

“Elbow up,” a deep, familiar voice directed, and Obi-Wan shifted slightly, straining to correct the motion. Large hands gently prodded at his shoulder, then his hip a few moves later. Obi-Wan let himself be moved, then held the poses an extra beat or two to set the corrections in his mind before continuing. Breathing in deeply, Obi-Wan turned, smiling up at Master Qui-Gon. 

“Hello,” Obi-Wan greeted. 

“Hello again Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon returned with a smile. “Are you meeting Mace here?” Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes wide. Qui-Gon was well aware how much his friend doted on his grand-padawan, and it was clear the affection was reciprocated. Regret panged softly in his chest. He could take another Padawan, he knew. It would even be encouraged. But he also loved caring for the younglings, introducing them to the ways of the Force. “Ah, I am, but until he arrives, would you do me the honour of sparring with me Padawan Kenobi?” he asked, and Obi-Wan grinned, then forced the eager expression from his face in an attempt at Jedi serenity, and settled into the Soresu ready position, weight back over his rear foot, non-dominant hand extended before him, the hilt of his ‘saber raised near his ear, parallel to the floor. 

Qui-Gon made a quiet noise Obi-Wan couldn’t quite decipher, then shifted his weight onto his toes and activated his blade at training power in the Ataru ready stance. An interesting choice of styles, Obi-Wan noted. Master Qui-Gon was at the upper range of height for a human male, and in fighting trim. He would rely on the blazing speed of Ataru to overwhelm Obi-Wan’s defenses, and his size meant that he could power through even a bad hit and land a strike. To have any sort of chance, Obi-Wan would have to embody the Soresu philosophy of resilience, and hold until Jinn wore himself out.

There was no way of course, that Obi-Wan even on his best day could outlast a seasoned Jedi Master in a spar, even if that Master spent more time chasing crechelings than criminals. Obi-Wan fought well, very well for a Padawan, but eventually his form began to slip, small gaps opening in his defenses. Qui-Gon was quick to take advantage. 

Obi-Wan held out as long as he could, but soon his arms were aching with the strain of keeping his ‘saber in motion, his legs burning from moving him from beneath Master Qui-Gon’s heavy attacks. Another searing strike crashed into Obi-Wan’s blade, and he wasn’t able to deflect, their blades locking. Qui-Gon leaned in, and Obi-Wan tried to eel out from under his larger opponent, a moment later feeling the burn of Jinn’s lightsaber against his neck. 

“Solah,” Obi-Wan managed to gasp out, and then collapsed onto his rear, panting and nearly trembling with exertion. Master Depa trained him hard, but she hadn’t humiliated him that thoroughly in some time, usually encouraging him along rather than beating him into shape. 

“So this is where you’re hiding,” a familiar warm voice called, and Obi-Wan looked up sharply, a bright grin breaking over his face. 

“Master Mace,” Obi-Wan greeted delightedly, and darted to his feet, exhaustion forgotten as he launched himself across the room, despite knowing his grandmaster was expected. Mace easily caught his heat-seeking grand-Padawan and pulled the boy - no, adolescent now - into a hug. Obi-Wan snuggled close. He adored Master Mace almost as much as Master Depa, and they spent a great deal of time together when they were both in Temple.

“Hello sunshine,” Mace rumbled, gently loosening Obi-Wan’s braids and then finger combing his long red-gold hair. Obi-Wan melted against Mace, practically purring with pleasure as the Korun stroked the silky, sweat damp locks. “Master Jinn give you a thorough thrashing?” Mace asked. 

“Mmmm-hmmm,” Obi-Wan affirmed happily. “Beat me almost as bad as you.” Mace chuckled softly at that. 

“Let’s see if I can’t return the favour, hmmm?” Mace offered, raising a challenging eyebrow at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon nodded, pleased at the obvious affection between his friend and the boy. Mace could be a bit reserved because of his heavy responsibilities, but it was clear he set his sternness aside when interacting with Obi-Wan. “Go and stretch, tooka,” Mace instructed, and Obi-Wan mantled just like a sulky tooka kitten would but obeyed, settling at the edge of the mats to cool down. 

“Tooka?” Qui-Gon asked with quiet bemusement. 

“He doesn’t remind you of a particularly mischievous tooka?” Mace replied with a slight smile, and Qui-Gon shrugged, although the comparison did seem rather apt. 

The two Masters were soon duelling ably, Obi-Wan watching entranced. Depa hadn’t started teaching Obi-Wan any of the moves from Vaapad, but he’d watched her run the exercises enough to recognize the forms. Depa’s Vaapad forms were slightly modified from her Master’s to fit her smaller, lighter body; she couldn’t simply power through some motions the way Master Mace could. 

Despite Master Mace being a little shorter than Master Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan thought the two masters probably had about the same mass. Master Mace was just built a bit more powerfully, and he used every bit of that strength against Master Qui-Gon. It was an incredible display, strength against strength. Obi-Wan could have watched them go for hours. As it was, he was stretched out and cool by the time Mace brought his blade down in a crashing strike that blazed through Qui-Gon’s defenses. 

“Solah,” Qui-Gon said breathlessly, smiling broadly and shaking out his arms when they disengaged. Sparring with Mace had kept Qui-Gon in good form over the years - had kept both of them in good form over the years. They both enjoyed the challenge though - and the stress relief. Mace grinned, disengaging, then turned back to his grand padawan who had moved from cool down stretching to acrobatic exercises, limbering his lithe young form. Currently, he was balancing on a single hand, carefully moving his legs through a series of exercise forms. “Point your toes sunshine,” Mace reminded, and Obi-Wan frowned slightly in concentration as he complied. 

“Do you ever address him by his real name?” Qui-Gon had to ask amusedly, a little impressed by the boy’s flexibility and centeredness. He remembered too though, Obi-Wan at four and five, turning somersaults down the floor until he rolled right off the end of the mats. Mace chuckled softly. 

“Not often,” Mace admitted with an indulgent smile. Obi-Wan was his first grand-padawan, and he enjoyed doting on him. Obi-Wan thrived under the attention without becoming arrogant though, blossoming for Depa and Mace when they complimented his hard-earned skills. Finishing the routine, Obi-Wan tucked back down into kneeling, then bounced up to hug his grandmaster again. 

“Master says you’re coming to dinner,” Obi-Wan said, grinning up at Mace, and Mace nodded, again reaching up to gently card Obi-Wan’s glinting copper hair. “I brought you treats.” Mace chuckled softly at that. 

“What sort of treats?” Mace asked. 

“Uh uh, ‘s a surprise,” Obi-Wan said, and Mace couldn’t help but smile.

“Not even a hint?” Mace wheedled, scritching gently at Obi-Wan’s scalp. 

“Noooo,” Obi-Wan practically moaned, wriggling in pleasure. 

“Mmm,” Mace said, and then picked his grand-padawan up and strode off with Obi-Wan caught beneath his arm like a particularly squirmy bundle of laundry, Obi-Wan giggling and laughingly protesting. That night at their meal, Depa, as always, praised Obi-Wan’s accomplishments but also encouraged him to keep learning, keep striving. It was a behavior she not only spoke well of, but also one she modeled. She was almost never without a text or learning module, and often spoke enthusiastically about her own self-guided studies, including her pursuit of Chalactan Enlightenment. 

That thirst for knowledge was something that Obi-Wan adored about his Master. Although, he adored just about everything about her in truth. Depa was like an older sister he’d never realized he needed, chiding him warmly to try more, try harder, but also protecting him when he needed it, and bolstering him when he was uncertain. Her belief in him had slowly over the years eroded the fear that had gnawed at him, whispering in his ears that he would never be good enough to be a Padawan, nevermind a Knight. He had retained his humility, but gained the ability to take a genuine compliment as well. 

Quiet confidence in not only his skills and ability, but who and what he was, served Obi-Wan well. He reconnected with his friends from the creche when they were all in Temple, and made new friends among his classmates. Because most other Senior Padawans were a few years older than Obi-Wan, so too were many of his friends. They soon learned though, that despite that he was younger and not yet as strong, it was unwise to count Obi-Wan out. Patience and persistence had been drilled into him by his Soresu practice with Master Depa, and he soon proved that he was someone to be reckoned with. 

In addition to his studies in Temple, Obi-Wan often went down to the creche. Qui-Gon always welcomed him happily, noting the firm bond of affection between Obi-Wan and young Anakin Skywalker. The youngling was strong in the Force, but kind and generous, open with his affection. He was also, Qui-Gon thought, much more closely connected to the Living Force than most Jedi. Anakin took well to the more agricultural focused exercises Qui-Gon taught the younglings, happily germinating seeds and urging his plants to strengthen and grow, fostering animals, and running with glee through the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Watching Obi-Wan with the youngling warmed Qui-Gon’s heart. While there were other volunteers in the creche, he was particularly fond of Obi-Wan and Anakin both, although he did his best not to show that favoritism. It was difficult at times, as Anakin was enormously gregarious, and Obi-Wan was both incredibly sweet and amusingly witty. Qui-Gon had no doubt that in a few years when Anakin was old enough and Obi-Wan a Knight, they would be bound together as Padawan and Master. He couldn’t imagine a better match for either, although he would willingly admit he sometimes contemplated going back to field duty to teach Anakin himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the names I use for the forms are stolen from the named sword forms from Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series.


	4. Chapter 4

As the years passed, one of Obi-Wan’s major tests of emotional maturity was assisting Master Depa on the protection detail for Duchess Satine Kryze, the newly risen ruler of Mandalore, or at least the New Mandalorian faction. The True Mandalorian faction had been slaughtered almost to the last man when Obi-Wan was still a young Padawan, leaving only the New Mandalorian pacifists and the much more violent Death Watch faction struggling for control of Mandalore and its peoples. 

Obi-Wan was too soon separated from his Master in their duties, he and the young Duchess going on the run, his Master acting as a decoy to draw away their pursuers. The preponderance of Obi-Wan’s experience was in diplomatic missions, which stood him in good stead with Satine. She got under his skin in just about every way possible, and only his adherence to protocol kept him from betraying just how irritating he found her. Of course, after a few months of living hand to mouth and in each other's pockets, Obi-Wan began to realize that much of his annoyance was fading, and a sincere admiration and affection was growing in its place. 

Recognition of his emotions made Obi-Wan awkward around his charge, and he spent more hours meditating than he ever had before. Slowly though, he accepted two truths; first that he was a Jedi and would remain so, that to do otherwise would be an abdication of not only responsibility, but self. Second, that he was rapidly falling in love with Satine Kryze, but doing so did not make him any less a Jedi. He could love her and still place his obligations to the Jedi first; it was not the sort of love, he anticipated, most young women would much appreciate. 

Eventually, peace prevailed on Mandalore, and Satine was able to safely ascend her throne. The Jedi faded back into the shadows, watching for a little while longer to ensure their protection was now unneeded. Obi-Wan treasured those last days at Satine’s side. Although his own affection for her went unspoken, he was fairly certain he recognized reciprocation in her, as well as her own knowledge that duty, for them, would always come before love. As he would always be a Jedi first, so too would she always prioritize the Mando’ade. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but love her even more as a result. 

When Obi-Wan returned to the Temple after the long year protecting Duchess Kryze, he was quieter and more introspective. Understanding that her Padawan was in emotional turmoil, Depa arranged for them to spend some time at the Chalactan Temple of Illumination. She was always welcome there, the Adepts pleased to have a Jedi walking the paths toward Enlightenment. 

Obi-Wan gratefully reconciled his experiences over the past year in the quieter surroundings of the Temple of Illumination. While all Jedi learned that their duties would often require personal sacrifice, it was different experiencing that sacrifice, not just knowing it would be necessary. While there, Obi-Wan also continued his studies of the Force as descried by the Adepts, training his mental abilities and learning the pathway to Enlightenment.

As a child, like many Jedi, Obi-Wan had received prescient dreams through the Force. They had faded slightly as he aged, and trained himself to use the Force in other, more prescribed ways. The Adepts of Chalacta though, were vaunted for their invulnerability to mental manipulation, but also for their sage parsing of prophecy and percipience. Although not all of them were active prognosticators, they had ways of communing with the Force despite being unable to wield it actively, and could reliable predict and prescribe future events and actions. Pathfinding, the Adepts called it, a way of viewing the many branching paths of the future and determining the most correct course of action. In Obi-Wan, the Adepts found a willing student.

The change of pace from field missions to the quiet and serenity of the Temple of Illumination helped Obi-Wan reconcile his emotions. The hours upon hours of meditation didn’t hurt either. Eventually though, their time in seclusion had to end. When the Jedi Temple on Coruscant was bombed, they made arrangements to return at best possible speed. Despite that Obi-Wan felt at times that he had spent more time away from the Temple than on Coruscant, the Temple would always be home to him. He and Master Depa packed in a matter of minutes, and were soon heading coreward. 

By the time Obi-Wan and his Master reached Coruscant, the first Jedi casualties of what would become known as the Yinchorri Uprising had been recorded, and a larger mission had been formed, with Mace Windu at the helm. The Knights and Masters that filled the ranks of the taskforce were both experienced diplomats and hardened warriors, many of them already veterans of the Stark Hyperspace Conflict a few years before. As he bid Master Mace safe journey, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think there was a shadow growing and creeping through the Republic, showing itself as a marked uptick in conflicts throughout the galaxy. 

When Obi-Wan mentioned his suspicions to his Master, Depa smiled, and suggested he meditate on the matter. Obi-Wan grumped a bit, but obeyed. His instincts on such matters were often correct, and so Obi-Wan wasn’t terribly surprised when his meditations showed him how the paths had become darkened. It was as if someone had laid a thin veil of synthsilk over a light, then another, then another, slowly dimming all of creation and yet the change was so gradual that few seemed to notice or remark upon the difference. 

Obi-Wan knew his own prowess at prognostication was no greater than many other Jedi - did they too then perceive this veil of Darkness? _No_ , the Force seemed to whisper, and Obi-Wan sensed that while some had begun to descry this change in the Force, they did not perceive, as he did, that this Darkness was purposeful, created by some discrete being rather than a natural shading or cycling of the Force. Obi-Wan furrowed his brow and deepened his meditation, rising only when a distant outcry roused him. 

In the end, the Yinchorri did mostly psychological damage on Coruscant, although two Jedi lost their lives. In their home system, they created far more trouble. When Master Mace returned home, tired and heart-sore, Obi-Wan met him on the platform with a hug, and the weary Korun Master leaned heavily on him. 

A few steps behind Obi-Wan and Mace, Qui-Gon couldn’t help but slightly envy the simple care evident between his friend and the Padawan. Obi-Wan tucked himself against Mace’s side and beginning to talk softly and soothingly about his and Depa’s recent adventures in the Temple. Obi-Wan gently cajoled Mace’s satchel from his hands and guided the older Jedi away, speaking of inconsequential things, promising his grandmaster that he’d take care of everything. Obi-Wan had spent much of the past few days in the creche, playing with the younglings to take his mind of the danger his grand-master was on. Qui-Gon had enjoyed Obi-Wan’s company, and had to shift his assessment slightly as he got a better look at Obi-Wan in that time. This was no adolescent boy any longer, but a young man coming into his prime. 

Obi-Wan still had a bit of that stretched gangly look of older teenagers who hadn’t quite filled out yet, but he also had the makings of a matchless beauty. Pale eyes glimmered green and blue and grey in a handsome face, the whole framed by cascading waves of red-gold silk. Today his hair was worn loose, and hung nearly to his waist when unbound. Qui-Gon had also noticed a fleck of dull gold set between Obi-Wan’s eyebrows - he, like his Master, was pursuing Chalactan Enlightenment then, guided by the Adepts of the Temple of Illumination. It was no small feat for anyone to accomplish, nevermind a young man with numerous other duties as a Jedi Padawan. 

“Well?” Mace asked, breaking Qui-Gon’s reverie as Qui-Gon followed them inside. 

“Yes?” Qui-Gon guessed. Mace sighed with a slight smile. 

“You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?” Mace asked, and Qui-Gon shrugged guilelessly. Mace just shook his head. “You’re definitely coming to late meal then, you might forget to eat otherwise.” Qui-Gon just shrugged again, and trailed after Mace, Depa, and Obi-Wan to a set of warm, lived in quarters decorated with massive tapestries in the Chalactan style and a few beautifully crafted art objects from other far-flung reaches of the galaxy. 

Obi-Wan stepped out of the low Temple shoes he had been wearing as he entered, Depa bustling ahead to one of the interior rooms. Mace took his tall boots off by habit, leaving Qui-Gon to stumble after him when he realized he was breaking an unspoken rule of the Billaba-Kenobi residence. Obi-Wan shooed the two Masters to the sofa, then went to prepare tea. 

The fragrant masala was strong and wonderfully spiced, and Obi-Wan brought out some food with it, the warm floury scent of the flatbreads reminding Qui-Gon that it had been far too long since he ate. Mace eventually tugged Obi-Wan down at his side after watching the Padawan dart in and out of the kitchen a half dozen times, and shoved a bit of naan into his mouth. Obi-Wan sulked up at his Grandmaster briefly, then ate the gifted naan and nestled against Mace’s side.

When Mace asked, Obi-Wan began telling a story that had clearly been interrupted previously of rebuilding after the Yinchorri attack on the Temple and the goings on since on Coruscant. He also spoke at length about ominous premonitions he had evidently been feeling for some time, and meditating on at length. It was clear he was not letting his prescience dictate his present, and Qui-Gon couldn’t help but be a little awed with the deliberateness of his wayfinding as he spoke about brighter and darker paths. 

By the time Depa appeared, Mace and Obi-Wan were conversing about metaphysics and spirituality on a level that frankly made Qui-Gon’s head hurt. She brought the meal out with her, Chalactan by the spices wafting off it, not that Qui-Gon had expected otherwise. He was happy to dig in too, it smelled delicious. 

It wasn’t the first meal Qui-Gon had enjoyed in their company, and wouldn’t be the last either. Every time Qui-Gon joined them, he found himself responding to queries almost without realizing, letting himself be drawn into debates on subjects he hadn’t much thought about in years, since he was a young Knight. But Obi-Wan - and it was always Obi-Wan - always seemed to find the right angle to draw him in, a bit of charm, a dash of contention, and Qui-Gon found himself laughingly defending his opinion, Mace arguing over him, Depa countering them both with her Padawan’s more than able assistance. 

With the Yinchorri Uprising quelled, Obi-Wan was soon away from the Temple again, trailing his Master across the galaxy. This time though, short holo messages found their way to Qui-Gon, purportedly to update Anakin on how the Padawan was doing. Even after Anakin graduated to the Initiates dorms though, the messages continued, and Qui-Gon responded to each one, including greetings from Anakin and all the Temple gossip.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for unfiltered fluff and sap :)

Qui-Gon looked up and smiled as Obi-Wan slipped into the creche. His smile broadened a moment later, when he noted that the Padawan braid that had for the past decade trailed down Obi-Wan’s neck, accumulating decorations and distinctions, was missing. Rising, Qui-Gon went to greet the new Knight, remembering well the day that Depa had come down here immediately after her own Knighting to claim Obi-Wan as her Padawan. 

“Not coming to claim anyone are you?” Qui-Gon teased, and Obi-Wan flushed brilliantly, even his ear-tips going red. 

“I - I was hoping I might be able to claim _you_ for late-meal, that is, if you aren’t busy tonight?” Obi-Wan asked, and Qui-Gon blinked, then felt the heat rising in his own cheeks. 

“As - as a friend, or as something more?” Qui-Gon couldn’t help but ask, needing to be certain. As friends, they had shared meals before. As more - well, now that Obi-Wan was a Knight, Qui-Gon could allow himself to contemplate the prospect of a more than platonic relationship. The past few years as Obi-Wan matured had been an exercise in restraint, reminding himself that while Obi-Wan was a man by age and law, he deserved to grow into Knighthood without an old man like Qui-Gon holding him back.

“I - either, but - I hope as something more?” Obi-Wan asked, voice squeaking as it hadn’t since he was a teenager. He was fairly confident that his romantic regard for Qui-Gon was returned, but assuming - well, there was a saying about that.

“I would like that,” Qui-Gon admitted, gently cupping Obi-Wan’s face in his hands, running his thumbs over flushed, freckled cheeks. “I would like that a great deal.” Obi-Wan let out a little squeak, and hugged Qui-Gon, hard, then all but bolted. Standing in the midst of his creche, Qui-Gon blinked, then grinned. He smiled goofily through the rest of his afternoon, his good mood infecting the younglings and forcing a sort of feedback loop where they emanated their own happiness back at him. When Anakin came to visit, he just rolled his eyes and went to play with the tooka kittens.

After the little ones had eaten their evening meal, and Qui-Gon had put in some exercise - a more calming-focused run through meditative forms that afternoon, rather than his usual Ataru - he showered and changed into fresh robes, then sought Obi-Wan’s new quarters in the Knights Hall. Qui-Gon himself was housed in the EduCorps residences nearer the creche, but it wasn’t terribly far, and Qui-Gon was glad of the walk. He hadn’t been on anything like a date in years, not since he and Tahl had decided they were better as friends.

Qui-Gon couldn’t deny though, that he very much liked Obi-Wan, that he liked the idea of being more than friends with Obi-Wan. He already knew the new-made Knight fairly well, and not only from having had a hand in raising him as a youngling. He knew from their interactions over the years as Master and youngling, Master and Initiate, Master and Padawan - Jedi and Jedi - that he respected Obi-Wan’s intelligence and abilities. And he knew from having eyes that Obi-Wan was quite the catch. What he was less certain about was what a handsome young Knight would want with _him_.

Obi-Wan answered the door with a flush and a soft smile though, the top part of his long ginger-gold hair caught back from his face in a pair of plaits that looped around his head, the remainder left to tumble in glossy waves down his back. He’d clearly changed as well, and the room was fragrant with spices and tea, soft music playing from the datasuite. Stepping in, Qui-Gon bent to pull off his boots. 

“Congratulations, by the way,” Qui-Gon said, reaching out and gently brushing his fingers down the side of Obi-Wan’s neck where his learners braid had rested for so many years. Obi-Wan flushed, eyes darkening. 

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, “and - thank you for coming.” Qui-Gon nodded, and let himself be led into the small apartment. A low table took up much of the space, leaving room only for a pair of floor cushions as seating. One of the Temple tookas had already wandered in and made itself at home on Obi-Wan’s low bed, and was purring contentedly in a rather abused looking cast off robe. Qui-Gon couldn’t help reaching out to greet the tooka, and Obi-Wan laughed softly as he settled on the cushion at Qui-Gon’s side, pouring them each a cup of tea - Depa’s masala blend by the scent. 

“That’s Jumper, who you may remember,” Obi-Wan said with a slightly deprecating tone. Qui-Gon thought back, then looked at the tooka again. Jumper had been Obi-Wan’s kitten in the creche, his foster to raise as a youngling - and then let go of when he became an Initiate. 

“She looks good,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan smiled brilliantly, shoulders lowering from their slightly defensive hunch. “I’m the last person to lecture on attachment,” Qui-Gon said gently. “There’s a reason I transferred into the creche despite that I was on course to be a Knight Consular.” Obi-Wan flushed, a little embarrassed for having been caught in his assumptions. “How long has she been staying with you?”

“She just showed up today, here at my new quarters,” Obi-Wan said with a shy smile. “Good timing, since Master Depa is allergic.” Qui-Gon laughed softly at that, and then Obi-Wan asked Qui-Gon about this year’s crop of kittens, and an hour later they were still happily conversing over their tea, despite that Obi-Wan was visibly drooping. 

“Was last night your meditations?” Qui-Gon asked, reaching out and carefully easing the teacup from Obi-Wan’s fingers. 

“That bad?” Obi-Wan returned with a huff of laughter, and Qui-Gon smiled, cupping the younger Jedi’s cheek. 

“Not bad at all, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, and I imagine you’re rather tired.”

“I am, although I barely feel it with you,” Obi-Wan said, then flushed brilliantly. 

“Don’t - don’t be ashamed,” Qui-Gon said, feeling his own blush rising. “I think that’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever been paid.” Obi-Wan’s ears had gone red again, and Qui-Gon couldn’t help but lean in and kiss one of his heated cheeks. 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed, and turned, leaning up to kiss Qui-Gon on the mouth. The angle was all wrong, their teeth clacking together and noses bumping, Obi-Wan nearly falling into Qui-Gon’s lap. Qui-Gon steadied them both, his hands on Obi-Wan’s waist, and gently they eased back a bit, shifting carefully to make a second attempt without ever really parting. 

“Oh,” Qui-Gon echoed when they parted, breathless and a bit starry eyed. Obi-Wan smiled softly up at him, and Qui-Gon rather urgently had to kiss him again. “I - I should go,” Qui-Gon murmured when they parted again, not daring open his eyes just yet. If Obi-Wan looked up at him like that again, he’d be just as unable to leave.

“I suppose you should,” Obi-Wan sighed, but neither of them moved. Obi-Wan tentatively nuzzled close, nestling his head into the side of Qui-Gon’s neck. Qui-Gon embraced Obi-Wan in turn, rubbing gently at his back. 

“Perhaps - perhaps tomorrow night you could come eat late meal at mine?” Qui-Gon offered, not quite ready to let go yet. 

“I would like that,” Obi-Wan said, his words puffing warmly against Qui-Gon’s neck and sending shivers down his spine. He needed to go. He needed - he needed to get control of himself. 

“I should go,” Qui-Gon said again, soft and full of regret. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sighed, and pulled himself back into his own space, loosely hugging himself to keep from reaching for Qui-Gon again. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Qui-Gon promised, and with a final kiss he showed himself out. 

“So how does one go about becoming a crechemaster?” Obi-Wan asked the following evening, and Qui-Gon blinked at him. He’d never had any indication Obi-Wan wanted to be anything but a Knight. “Not for me,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “I - Anakin asked. He - he thinks quite highly of you.”

“I - he wants to be a crechemaster?” Qui-Gon asked, a little perplexed. “With his power and ability, he could do anything.”

“So could you, but that doesn’t change that you wanted to be a crechemaster,” Obi-Wan pointed out, and Qui-Gon nodded, because it was the truth. He’d fought for the position he now held, and it had been more than twenty years since he spoke with his own master as a result. He knew too that Dooku wasn’t the only one who thought he was squandering his talents, but - how could caring for and protecting and guiding their youngest be a waste? Despite having fought to become crechemaster, perhaps he’d let a little of that negativity infect his own thinking.

“I’m honoured,” Qui-Gon admitted. “I trained to become a Knight first, but once I was Knighted I took remedial courses through EduCorps to get certified. Pedagogy, Psychology, Ethics, basic first aid, that sort of thing. He should talk to the Council of Reassignment, they could help him plot that course far better than me. I suppose - I thought he would rather be like you, having adventures all over the galaxy. He looks up to you a great deal.” 

“He does,” Obi-Wan said with a fond smile. “But I think you underestimate your own influence. I may have taken him from Tatooine, but he doesn’t really remember his mother or being enslaved. He remembers your love though, your warmth and strength, your encouragement as he settled here in the Temple.” 

Qui-Gon flushed heatedly at that, and was thankful when Obi-Wan simply smiled and then switched the conversation to lighter topics. Once again they conversed until late at night, long after Qui-Gon usually would have curled into his bed. But he didn’t want Obi-Wan to go, didn’t want that bright presence to leave. Obi-Wan seemed just as unwilling to part, but eventually pulled himself away after a sweet goodnight kiss that left Qui-Gon’s heart fluttering. 

“You are so hopeless,” Tahl sighed the next day as she settled next to Qui-Gon at mid-meal in the refectory. 

“I know,” Qui-Gon groaned, burying his face in his hands. Tahl just laughed though, and patted him on the shoulder. Thankfully, chasing younglings occupied him the rest of the day, and when he arrived at his rooms, he had a message from Obi-Wan asking if he would like to spar together before late meal, and perhaps meditate together. Qui-Gon blushed again at that, wondering if Obi-Wan ment meditate together or - well. ‘Meditate’ together. 

Still blushing, he made his way to the practice halls, excitement thrumming in him. The last time they’d sparred, Obi-Wan had been a gangling padawan, still working on the basics. Qui-Gon was curious how he’d developed as a fighter. Depa was a Soresu specialist with a Mastery of Vaapad, and Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan had been learning Soresu as a Padawan. Had Depa also taught Obi-Wan the Ferocity Form with Mace’s permission? Had Mace taught Obi-Wan Vaapad himself? 

When Qui-Gon arrived, Obi-Wan was already moving gracefully through forms. Qui-Gon didn’t recognize the movements though, and watched curiously. When he reached the culmination of his pattern, Obi-Wan settled, turning to Qui-Gon with a smile. 

“Hello,” Qui-Gon greeted, and Obi-Wan’s smile widened. 

“Hello,” Obi-Wan returned warmly. “Ready to spar?” 

“Honestly, I think I’d prefer just running forms with you,” Qui-Gon admitted. “I am often looking for sparring partners, but-”

“No, I think I understand,” Obi-Wan said gently. While sparring was a way to get to know certain aspects of another Jedi, and fast, those traits could be learned almost as easily in less combative manners. “I was working on Ribbon in the Air last time we met like this I think,” he said with a smile. Qui-Gon huffed out a laugh. 

“Yes, I suppose you were. Shall we start there?”

Obi-Wan nodded, then settled into the opening position. They moved slowly and steadily through the routine, Qui-Gon’s eyes running over Obi-Wan’s broad shoulders and strong limbs, slender hands and narrow hips. Sure and practiced as they were, the motions were almost dance-like. 

“Leaf on the Breeze?” Qui-Gon suggested as they drew towards the close of Ribbon in the Air. He had always enjoyed that form, and they flowed well. Obi-Wan dipped his head, and when they reached the closing pose of Ribbon in the Air, they seamlessly transitioned into Leaf on the Breeze. Obi-Wan selected the next routine, then Qui-Gon, trading off through some of their favourite exercises. 

“Starbird Waking to close?” Obi-Wan offered when he began to feel pangs of hunger. Qui-Gon made a quiet noise of assent behind him, and they completed their exercises with slow precision. At the final pose, they held a moment, breathing deeply. 

“Thank you Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan turned, smiling. They were both a bit warm, and breathing a bit hard, but not overly strained. It was a pleasant feeling, Obi-Wan thought. “I should like to spar with you some other time, but this - I enjoyed this a great deal.”

“As did I,” Obi-Wan said. “Would you like to eat together again tonight?”

“I would,” Qui-Gon affirmed, voice dropping a register. Obi-Wan’s eyes shuttered, and he shivered as a wave of pure lust swept through him. Qui-Gon let out a low sound that reminded Obi-Wan very much of a predator’s growl, then kissed Obi-Wan deeply. 

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan breathed as they parted, and Qui-Gon swallowed thickly, nuzzling gently against Obi-Wan’s cheek. “I - I do not want you to doubt that I desire you,” he said, voice low and strained.

“We can take it slow,” Qui-Gon offered, and Obi-Wan let out a shuddering breath of relief. Worried, Qui-Gon pulled back a bit, tipping up Obi-Wan’s chin to read his face. 

“I have a tendency to let my heart lead. It’s been bruised a few times as a result,” Obi-Wan said with a wry smile. “I trust you, and care for you a great deal. I want to do this properly.” Qui-Gon smiled at that, and kissed him again, softer. Properly was really the only way this _could_ be done, Qui-Gon thought rather bemusedly when he left Obi-Wan’s room late that night only to be met in the hall by Mace and Depa. Mace was clearly biting back a grin, while Depa wore an uncharacteristically fierce smile.

“I don’t plan to let him come to harm,” Qui-Gon offered without prompting, and Mace let out a soft chuckle. 

“Obi-Wan doesn’t need for there to be any sort of nefarious intent to end up hurt,” Depa said coolly. “I’ll be watching you, Qui-Gon Jinn.” She emphasized her point with a forefinger jabbed strongly into the center of Qui-Gon’s chest. He tried not to laugh - Depa was more than a full head shorter than him, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of a fiesty tooka. Perhaps Obi-Wan had come by that nickname honestly, as he did in some ways take after his Master. And despite her size, Depa was well regarded for her skills with a lightsaber. If she seriously wanted to hurt him - well. It would be a good fight to say the least. 

“Fair enough,” Qui-Gon conceded, and with a firm nod to emphasize her seriousness, Depa stalked off. 

“Shaking in your boots yet?” Mace teased, his smile breaking free. 

“Are you going to threaten me too?” Qui-Gon quipped in return. Mace just grinned. 

“Qui-Gon, if you mess this up, there won’t be enough of you left for me to bother with,” Mace said, still smiling. He clapped Qui-Gon on the shoulder. “Besides,” he said, and his smile got a bit wider and a whole lot scarier. “I know you’re not going to hurt him.” Qui-Gon swallowed and nodded, and Mace’s smile faded back to amiability. “Good. Good. I’d hate to lose a crechemaster of your skill.”

“Did Obi-Wan get all the niceness in your entire lineage?” Qui-Gon had to ask, and Mace chuckled. 

“Maybe so,” Mace said, “maybe so.” Qui-Gon huffed, but let Mace lead him away from Obi-Wan’s room.

“He’s lucky to have you and Depa,” Qui-Gon said somewhat wistfully. In truth, he didn’t mind the threats - Qui-Gon was actually a bit pleased that Mace and Depa were so protective of Obi-Wan. He had craved that sort of support from his own Master. 

“We’re lucky to have him,” Mace countered, and Qui-Gon couldn’t argue that. He felt more than a little lucky to have Obi-Wan in his life as well. Those long years ago, cradling that little form against his chest, he never would have imagined this outcome. Even further back, when he was miserable and exhausted and terrified of letting his Master down - no. He was incredibly lucky, or in absence of fortune, blessed by the Force to share his life with Obi-Wan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for coming along on this aggressively fluffy journey, i hope you enjoyed your cavities :)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm also on tumblr with the same username, feel free to stop by and say hey


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